


Of Snowdrifts, Jockstraps and Sex

by Wolves_of_Innistrad



Series: Jockstrap Collection [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Jock Straps, Jockstraps, Locked In, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Derek Hale, Smut, Snowed In, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolves_of_Innistrad/pseuds/Wolves_of_Innistrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles are stranded, Derek's Subaru stuck in a snowdrift off the side of the road with no way to call for help.  As the nigth turns colder, they must resort to desperate, and sexy, measure to stay warm.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles finds out Derek wears Jockstraps and teases him until Derek shuts him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Snowdrifts, Jockstraps and Sex

**Author's Note:**

> This is set some time after Stiles has graduated, and also ignores some of season 4 and most likely season 5. Starts in media res with Derek and stiles already stranded and having resorted to getting mostly naked to share warmth.

          “Really Derek? I mean, a jockstrap?”

          “Shut up.”

          “Really?”

          “Shut. Up.”

          “Or what? You’ll rip my throat out with your teeth?”

          “No, but I might just tell your girlfriend you’re trying to touch my bare ass. Which reminds me, stop trying to touch my ass, Stiles.” Derek slaps Stiles hands away, then grips his wrist and pulls them back up to a more modest position.

          Stiles makes a nervous little laugh then looks up at Derek, and for once it looks almost shy, like the first day they’d met. “I’m not… We aren’t, I mean… We broke up,” he says, shrugging, but mostly just flailing one arm since the other is trapped under him.

          Derek doesn’t say anything for a minute, then just goes, “Oh,” before averting his eyes. The unbearably intimate moment was blunted somewhat by knowing Stiles was taken, and Derek wasn’t about to do anything untoward in that situation, but now that he knew that wasn’t an issue, well, his thoughts had suddenly taken a turn that could easily keep them both warm all night.

          “Yeah…” Stiles sighs, rubbing his neck and studiously avoiding Derek’s gaze. After a while they settle back down, sounds of the biting wind and snow lulling them into a more peaceful silence.

          “Stiles.” Derek intones, teeth nearly clenched.

          “What?” Stiles asks, voice lilting with barely contained amusement.

          “You’re trying to touch my ass again.”

          “And?”

          “I’m not letting you touch my ass.”

          “Then why are you wearing a jockstrap if you don’t want your ass on display. Is this some weird look but don’t touch thing Derek?”

          “No it’s n- Nevermind, just stay away from my ass.”

          “Isn’t it cold?”

          “What?”

          “Isn’t your ass a bit cold, all bare, not even a thread covering it from the harsh, biting winter air. And here I am, all long, warm fingers that could keep it company, turn that full moon into an eclipse?” Stiles’ eyebrows raise and lower like a cartoon, jostling for attention.

          “I… What? No I…”

          “Fine, fine. What’s with the red anyway? Couldn’t find a black leather one to match your jacket?”

          “Who says I don’t have a leather one,” Derek says, voice a deep, husky baritone that makes Stiles gulp.

          “What?!” Stiles asks, a bit panicked.

          Derek just smirks, teeth glinting even in the low light. They lay there like that for a while before Derek notices a breeze coming in again. The car is locked up, but then again, it’s cold enough that even his werewolf warmth isn’t doing the trick.

          “Fine…” Derek grumbles, avoiding Stiles’ eyes as he says it.

          “Fine?” Stiles asks, brows knit together in confusion. It isn’t as impressive as the way Derek does it, but it’s good enough to decipher.

          “You… You can touch my ass.”

          “Whoa, wait , really?!”

          “Yes. But only because my cheeks feel like they might freeze off if I don’t get some warmth into them.”

          Stiles giddily accepts Derek’s acquiescence, fingers greedy for warmth and flesh. He cups Derek’s ass almost reverently at first, getting a feel for it, before beginning to knead the meaty globes, fingers bristling slightly on tiny hairs. He always knew Derek had a great ass, but he never suspected the man to have such a rounded bubble butt. Or for the hair to not be a turn off. If anything the hair on Derek’s body is suddenly a huge turn on for Stiles.

          A quiet moan escapes Derek’s lips, despite his best efforts to trap it inside. He hopes beyond hope that Stiles hasn’t heard, but the moment he opens his eyes he see that familiar shit-eating grin.

          “Enjoying my little m _ASS_ age Derek?” Stiles asks, not even remotely as coyly as he wants to think he’s being.

          “I’m freezing, I’d enjoy anything that warmed me up.”

          “Anything?”

          “Not what I meant.”

          “I wasn’t implying anything, your mind supplied the rest."

          “Whatever. Besides, I’m sure you’d react the same way.”

          “Doubtful, I have a bit of restraint.”

          “Oh really?”

          “Got that right.”

          “Let’s see then,” Derek says and reaches both hands into Stiles’ boxers, grabbing his ass.

          Stiles laughs, wiggling his ass into Derek’s hands, which is so not the response Derek had intended. “See? Self-control.”

          “Fine! How about this!” Derek says, and his body reacts before his mind has a chance to filter this idea, see it through and determine if it’s intelligent or not. That’s how it ends up happening, totally by accident if you ask Derek. Honest.

          “Derek…?”

          “Yes.”

          “Are yo-“

          “Yes.”

          "Wh-“

          “Shut up.”

          “But…”

          “Shut. Up.”

          “Derek you’re gripping my dick.”

          “I said shut up.”

          “If you keep doing that it’s go-“

          “I know what’ll happen.”

          “And you’re gonna’ keep doing it anyway?”

          “Yes.” That surprises Derek, not having expected the words to fall from his mouth, but not entirely regretting it once they did.

          This time it’s Stiles who’s stunned into silence. Only for a moment though, but what a blessed moment that is around Stiles, being silent for all of four seconds. “So does this mean we’re going to…?”

          “This doesn’t’ mean anything. Not yet,” Derek answers, looking at Stiles with an unreadable expression.

          “Yet huh?” Stiles asks, getting a fiendish gleam in his eye. “Well, let’s change that, I hate wasted potential.” Stiles’ fingers creep lower, pulling Derek’s cheeks apart as one finger slips down to slide over his hole.

          A shuddering breath wracks Derek, the first not to come from cold that night, as he feels that finger steal into his crevice. As he bites his lips he looks into those honeyed eyes, seeing something there, a fire, melting and turning that sweet honey into sex-soaked whiskey. There’s a brief, intense moment where their eyes meet and time stops, even the battering winds seeming to quiet. Then Stiles speaks and ruins the moment.

          “You feel really, um, clean?” Stiles says, voice raising as if in question.   “Like, I haven’t done this before, not really, but yeah, definitely a clean butthole.”

          Derek laughs, smiling bright and genuine at Stiles. His face is tinged red, mind stuck on how he’d just rode his own fingers to orgasm not but 3 scant hours ago thinking of Stiles doing this to him, working him open and making him cum just like that. “I do shower, I’m not an animal,” he bites back, light and playful, full of mirth instead of wrath.

          “I’m just saying bravo. You know, congrats on the squeaky clean assho-“

          “Just shut up and finger me Stiles!” Derek barks out, laughing as he says it.

          Stiles splutters for a moment before screwing up his face in determination. “Can do!” Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucks them into his mouth, that sinful, delectable tongue working them over and getting them spit-slick before moving down and replacing his other hand with the lubed one.

          Eyes shut tight, Derek misses the way Stiles bites his lip, maneuvering his fingers to the right position, trying to avoid cramping his wrist. “Fuck…” Derek sighs, breathless.

          “Good?” Stiles asks, as if he doesn’t see the way Derek’s tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth so hard he fully expects droplets of blood to come cascading down from his mouth like some kind of autoincising vampire.

          A quick jerk of the head is the only response he receives, but Derek’s body is more than willing to communicate, even if his mouth isn’t. His spine arches, pressing his ass back on Stile’s digit. His breath is coming in short gasps, barely wincing as Stiles works in a second finger.

          Its not long before Stiles has worked Derek up to three fingers, even if his fingers are killing him from the angle he’s been pressing at. Derek looks so sweet though, lost in his pleasure, so Stiles holds out for a few more minutes, only pulling his fingers from Derek’s greedy hole when he can’t take it any more.

          “Huh? Wh-where?” Derek mutters, eyes glassy, lips bitten red and swollen as he stares at Stiles.

          “Sorry big guy, fingers starting to hurt,” Stiles answers, looking down to see Derek’s jock has a huge wet spot in it from where he’s been leaking into it. Stiles isn’t doing too bad in that department either, feeling the slightly sticky and damp spot right beneath his waistband. Taking a leap, he rolls them over, Stiles straddling Derek, grinding their hips together, cocks rubbing through thin fabric.

          “St- Stiles!” Derek groans, voice cutting out as Stiles swivels his hips, catching both their heads together.

          “Y-yeah Der?” he croaks back, finding his own voice catching at the pleasure of it.

          “Fuck…”

          “I know.”

          “No, I mean fuck… Fuck me.”

          His hips falter, almost sliding off Derek’s muscular frame as his brain short circuits a bit trying to decipher that last sentence.

          “I… I think the cold is starting to mess with my hearing,” Stiles says haltingly.

          “No, you heard me correctly.”

          “I did?”

          “I want you to fuck me Stiles.”

          “Ok… Ok,” Stiles says, trying to control his breathing. He won’t admit it, but he’s thought about it. What guy who was just realizing he was into other guys wouldn’t be into the thought of fucking Derek Hale. Of course he had always suspected he’d be the bottom, not because that was what he really wanted, but because he was willing to do that if it meant being with Derek. The fact that Derek and he are sexually compatible in this only makes things better.

          “Well?”

          “Well what?”

          “Are you going to take off those stupid Batman boxers and get to it?”

          “Oh, yeah. Um, yeah, yeah…”

          As Stiles’ boney fingers tug at the hem of his waistband, Derek licks his lips, eyes greedily taking in each new inch of bared, freckled skin.

          Stiles’ cock is like the rest of him, long and lean. It flares wide at the head before tapering back down at the shaft, which only makes Derek want to ride it more, to know how it feels stretching him open. He wants to cement that feeling of sliding down Stiles’ cock onto his mind permanently and it hasn’t even happened yet, but he knows it will, knows that right now there isn’t any turning back, for either of them. It may have been a long time building, but once they’d let the sparks fly, flames ignited almost instantly.

          “Should I, um, take these off?” Stiles questions, two fingers hooked in the band of Derek’s jock.

          “No, I want… I want to focus on feeling your cock, not on mine,” Derek admits, face turning a violent shade of red.

          “Really?” Stiles asks, a bit incredulous.

          “Yes. Besides I’d, uh, kind of just be flopping around and getting in the way,” he laughs, one hand coming down to stroke himself through the fabric.

          Now that Derek mentions it, Stiles realizes just how big Derek is. While he can’t see completely through the fabric, he is sure that the older man is longer and thicker than he is. “After? Can I see it?”

          “Yes, after.”

          Stiles stops for a moment, letting his hand rest over Derek’s bulge, feeling his pulse faintly through it, rubbing up and down. He elicits a few moans from Derek, but he knows this isn’t where things are headed. Looking up at Derek, he smirks, getting that shit eating grin he had earlier.

          “I should’ve known big bad wolf would be a bottom. Tough man all day, has to be a time when you let go and let someone else have control,” Stiles says, analyzing Derek like their next mission.

          Hands come up to push Stiles down by both shoulders, pressing him into the car’s carpeting. “Does this…” he grinds down on Stiles’ cock, letting it slide between his cheeks as he rocks his hips, “feel like you being in charge here?”

          “Whoa, um… Uh…”

          “Don’t mistake my desires for your cock to be in me for me submitting to you. I may not be an Alpha anymore, but I’m going to ride you like I am. Then I’ll make you cum with just my ass.”

          “That is the single hottest thing anyone has ever said to me. Fucking use me Derek.”

          And use him he will. Derek plans to ride Stiles hard and fast, fucking himself and the younger man senseless. He reaches back, giving him a few strokes with his hand, feeling the heft of it, filled with blood and standing at attention. Placing a hand on his chest, noting how Stiles’ shoulders have filled out in the last few years, he scoots up, aligning himself.

          Derek can hear Stiles’ heart speeding up, thumping a staccato beat in his chest while Derek’s hole flexes over the tip of Stiles’ dick. Bearing down, Derek starts his descent, feeling that slight burn as the head breaches him. He’s so horny he doesn’t waste any time, just sinks down to the hilt slowly, enjoying each second of the glide until he’s seated in the younger man’s lap.

          “Oh my God, Derek Hale is on my dick,” Stiles says, voice awed and a bit smug.

          “Shut up.” Derek counters, splaying his knees to let himself go a bit farther down.

          “No, but really, who would ha-“

          “Shut up and let me enjoy this Stiles.”

          “Shutting up!”

          Finally able to concentrate, Derek rises up, pulling out until just Stiles’ tip is inside him before dropping back down.

          “Oh fuck!” Stiles shudders, eyes looking up in surprise.

          Derek just smiles that predatory smile, eyes glowing a feint blue as he begins to ride Stiles hard and fast. Soon the only sounds that can be heard are their combined moans and the slap of skin on skin as Derek falls back on Stiles’ thighs at an increasingly fast speed, until, in the middle of rocking his hips, Derek halts, breath hitching as a tiny pleased sound escapes his mouth unbidden; eyes shut, but face screwed up in silent contentment.

          “You ok Derek?” Stiles asks, concern showing in his face as he wipes at his brow.

          “Y-yeah… Fine. Just, just gimme’ a sec,” Derek mumbles, sounding blissed out and nigh incoherent. He stays like that for a few moments, every so often canting his hips just so and seemingly melting each time.

          Getting an idea, Stiles thrusts up experimentally, receiving a gasp from Derek, eyes bugging out. “Like that, Derek?” he teases.

          “Do that again.”

          “My pleasure. Or, more accurately, yours.” Bucking up again, Stiles nails Derek’s prostate, making the man mewl in satisfaction, then scream as his pace quickens.

          For Derek it’s like a punch to the gut, each stroke hitting that spot, the one he’d worked so hard to find and rarely did, and Stiles seemed to not be able to get enough of it, hitting it with near precision aim.

          He practically collapses, head buried in Stile’s neck, scenting him as he falls to pieces. Stiles keeps thrusting up, pace quickening but never losing sight of that spot. If Derek had the sense to think he’d wonder how Stiles could be this good at sex if he’d never been with a man before, but then again Stiles was good at just about everything, why not fucking?

          “Stiles… Stiles,” Derek moans, voice wrecked.

          “What was that, oh Mr. going to ride you like an Alpha?” Stiles quips, not missing a beat as he talks.

          “Sh-shut, sh- oooOOH FUCK!”

          Taking advantage of Derek’s momentary distractedness, Stiles flips them over, planting his knees and wrapping Derek’s legs around his waist, finding the right angle to drive his cock home again. For his part, Derek hardly even notices the change of positions, having devolved into a whimpering, moaning mess.

          Stiles' fingers search out Derek’s, holding his hand tightly as he props himself up with the other. As he watches Derek, sees the way his jaw hangs slack, eyes shut tight, he realizes something. This is Derek at his most open, his most free. The amount of trust Derek must have in him to allow Stiles to see him like this, to allow Stiles to make him feel like this, almost overwhelms him.

          A surge of fondness pulses through him, licking like the flames of lust, but sweeter, softer. “Derek…” he breathes, watching those brilliant electric blue eyes flutter open behind a curtain of lashes. And as they lock eyes, Stiles leans in and kisses Derek. It shouldn’t be any different, shouldn’t be any more intimate than having his cock lodged deep inside Derek, but it triggers something in them both.

          Within moments they can’t keep their hands off each other, lips locked in a bruising kiss, not so much fighting for dominance as struggling to get enough of each other. Part of Stiles faintly wonders if this is what he’d been missing before, this intense, unbridled passion that feels like it’s driving him wild. Stiles hips stutter, faltering in his quest to get more of Derek’s lips.

          “Shoulders… Shoulders,” Derek whispers, panting for breath as he breaks the kiss. It takes Stiles a moment, finding most of the blood in his body either in his dick or lips, leaving little for actual thoughts, but he finally understands, grabbing Derek’s legs and propping them on his shoulders. Doubled up, Derek can get to his lips better, and Stiles’ thrusts hit harder and faster, a direct line to his prostate, or so it seems to Derek.

          They move together for what feels like hours, but in all likelihood is only a few minutes before Derek breaks the kiss again.

          “I’m… I’m c-close,” he stutters, beads of sweat rolling off him.

          “Me… Me too Der,” Stiles replies, hips snapping over and over.

          Before Stiles can realize what’s happening, Derek has him on his back again, riding him like his life depends on it. And for the moment, it feels like it does. As if the shared orgasm they are about to bear witness to is the culmination of years of tension, foreplay on a grand scale.

          Derek fucks himself down onto Stiles’ cock with wild abandon, and if he weren’t in the middle of the best sex he’s ever had, Stiles might worry his dick could break from Derek’s werewolf strength. As it is he just urges him to go faster, harder, and Derek obliges.

          “Derek… Derek, I’m, I’m going to,” Stiles pants, barely keeping it together.

          “Come on, mark me,” Derek growls, eyes flashing that electric blue as he clamps down hard, howling as he cums. Stiles is right behind him, feeling the contractions inside Derek wringing his cock out, pulling every last strand of cum from his dick.

          Derek doesn’t even let him pull out, just falls on top of him, laying there, catching his breath like they’ve just ran a marathon.

          “Hey… Remember, remember when we were like this the last time?”

          “At the station?” Derek asks groggily, and oh, he’s a cuddler after sex, Stiles realizes.  Derek has latched onto him, kissing lazily up his neck and collarbone. Stiles ’t complaining, even if it feels a bit out of character.

          “Yeah, you remember what Matt said?” he asks quietly, unsure where he’s going with this.

          “He said we made a good pair,” Derek says, and Stiles can hear the smile in his voice, though he can’t see it thanks to Derek’s neck obsession.

          “Yeah, he did.”

          “He wasn’t wrong.”

          “He wasn’t?”

          “Obviously we work together well, even if you are a pain in my ass.”

          “A pain? Really? Because that orgasm you just shot in your jock would beg to differ.”

          “Oh really?”

          “Yeah, I think I’m definitely a pleasure in your ass.”

          “Shut up, Stiles.”

          “Make me.”

          And Derek does, pressing their lips together, this time softer, more carefully. It’s the kind of kiss that makes your stomach flip flop, knees shake like jelly. It’s totally weird, but in the best, most unexpected way.

          “So I guess you’re not the big, bad wolf after all, huh? Just a big ol’ softy.”

          “And you’re not just some smart mouthed idiot in a red hoodie.”

          “No, guess not.”

          “Keep the hoodie though, I kind of like it.”

          “I knew it!”

          “Shut it.”

          “No, you like me!” Stiles taunts, sing songing as he speaks.

          “I take it back, you’re awful.”

          “Psh, no way. You can’t get enough of Stiles.”

          “You’re right, I can’t,” Derek laughs, despite himself, moving to kiss him again. Neither of them will ever get sick of these kisses, they can already tell. “Doesn’t mean I want to listen to you every second.”

          “Well at least you know how to shut me up now.”

          “Oh, I can think of some other ways to shut you up.”

          “Do they involve murder or maiming?”

          “No… They involve my cock, and those sinful lips.”

          “I… I could definitely get behind that.”

          “Good, because werewolves have a very short refractory period.”

          “Are you trying to kill me Derek?”

          “Death by sex, not something anyone would ever expect from you.”

          “I’m all about defying expectations.”

          “That you are, since the day I met you.”

          “Same here big guy,” Stiles says, and his smile is soft, making him look younger, reminding Derek of the first time they met.

          “What is the pack going to think?” Derek asks, the faintest trace of uncertainty in his voice.

          “Who cares?”

          “True.”

          “So, are you really going to be ready to go again? Because you’ve got your end of the bargain to hold up. Come on, whip out that cock huh?”

          Derek pulls it out, revealing a dark, thick cock nested in jet black pubes splattered with his own cum. Stiles licks his lips “This what you want?” Derek asks.

          “Yes, now give me that cock and shut me up.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been in my drafts forever, but I finally got some muse to finish it up! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> As always, a big thanks to all my Wonderful Readers for the comments, subs, and kudos!
> 
> You can find me at [My Tumblr](http://www.wolvesofinnistrad.tumblr.com)


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